Zapata Falls

Zapata Falls is an easy hike just a bit south of the Great Sand Dunes. My dad suggested it to me, and I thought that it seemed like a good and easy way to ease into this adventure having that I have decided to do this summer. It was about a 45 minute drive to get to the trail head from Alamosa, during which I saw three large dust devils. That was exciting for me, as I am a giant nerd about tornados and anything that is related to them.

The trail head to the falls is at the top of a long, twisting gravel road that climbs up the foot of Mount Blanca. At the top I parked among quite a few other cars, situated my stuff, and began my hike.

Getting started!

The San Luis Valley

The trail up the mountain

The first thing I noticed was that I over packed. I have a tendency to do that, and I am pretty sure one doesn’t need food, a camelback bladder of water, two extra water bottles, and several layers of clothing for the half mile hike to the falls. In my defense, I didn’t know how short the hike was when I had packed for it, and I was debating going to the Sand Dunes afterwards and didn’t know how long I’d be gone for. Apparently I assumed it would be several days. Ah well, better safe than sorry.

The afternoon was beautiful, with some slightly ominous clouds blocking out the sun and making for a cooler hike. It was perfect for my first solo hike, perhaps ever. I usually have at least one friend with me, but today it was just me, God, and the mountain. Also, at least 30 other hikers, as this is apparently a pretty popular destination for visitors to the park, and particularly those with young children. A family with four young daughters passed me heading down. The girls were wrapped in towels and talking excitedly about what they just experienced. I heard one tell her dad, “That was worth the whole trip!” I got more excited about my destination and continued on, despite a sneaking suspicion that I was over dressed. As I worked my way up the path, I felt a few light raindrops hit my face and reflected that I left my raincoat in the car. Fortunately that did not amount to much. Then I heard thunder. I got instantly paranoid, as people get struck by lightning in Colorado more often than they should. I decided to press onward since I figured I was nearing the falls, but I listened carefully for more thunder. Fortunately I heard none. What I did begin to hear was thunder of a different sort.  

You can hear the falls before you can see them. That always seems the case with waterfalls. As I neared them, listening to their roar, I saw a sign warning against swimming. It made me flash back to my hike to Boti Falls in Ghana. (If you want to read about that: http://itinerantbarista.blogspot.com/2009/11/ghananana-ghananana-heeeey-goodbye.html)

The warning sign

I took some pictures of the ravine that lead to the falls, and debated wading over to get a good look at them. I didn’t want to get my boots wet, but then a couple of guys appeared down the trail heading my way. I didn’t want to look dumb in front of the strangers, plus I heard echoes of people laughing inside the ravine, so I started carefully picking my way along the wall of rock, heading towards the falls. I managed to make it into the cavernous interior, where the roar of the falls echoed off the walls and through my entire being. Mist from the water filled the air. A couple of other guys were playing in the water. I decided I would have to return in Chacos so that I could actually feel comfortable getting my feet wet. After enjoying the power of the water for a while, I picked my way carefully out of the cavern.

A dark picture of the ravine leading to the falls

A blurry picture of the falls and some people playing in it. None of the pictures I got were clear.

Once outside, I saw a large family attempting to get to the falls. I did my best to keep out of their way as they worked their way past me, helping a small girl who smiled bravely at me as her parents directed her steps. I passed everyone and was feeling pretty good, until I slipped. My right foot plunged into water up to my knee. My butt and back hit the wall, and my left foot got a little wet too. I recovered as gracefully as I could manage and worked my way the last few yards out of the stream to assess the damage. I had an intense internal debate on whether or not to wring out my sock then and there or wait until the car. I settled on waiting and started down. One of the guys who was playing in the water, a tan fellow who looked to be about 25, was having a cigarette and waiting for his friends. He looked very excited about his experiences, and he stopped me to ask if I had hiked over above the falls. I had investigated that path but decided against it because my foot was wet and it was really steep. I told him that I hadn’t but probably would next time. He said, “My friends did, but I had sandals on. I’m definitely coming back to do that!” I agreed with him on that fact and began my hike down.

The damage

The trail heading above the falls

About 200 yards down the path, I realized that I had lost a water bottle, most likely during my unexpected dip in the river. Fighting back irritation, I practically sprinted back and assessed the stream. I sort of expected that it was lost forever, and I sure didn’t see it. I was a little bummed because I hate losing things and I really liked that water bottle, but what else could I do? I sloshed down the trail towards my car, and ended up driving home before I took off my gross wet sock.

View of the Great Sand Dunes

Overall I enjoyed the hike. It was quick and pretty easy, which made it perfect for an afternoon. It offered beautiful views of the Great Sand Dunes and the San Luis Valley, which make it worth the trip alone. Plus, it’s pretty easy for children, so if you have kids and are in the area, it is an activity you should consider. And if you do go, keep your eyes open for a white metal water bottle. It’s mine.